Not everyone likes peaches

One of my kids didn’t get invited to a classmate’s birthday party. He was hurt. And honestly, I get it. That kind of exclusion stings. Especially when you’re little and still figuring out how people work.

But I didn’t want to explain it by pointing fingers. I didn’t want to make it about the other kid being mean, or the parents being unfair. I wanted to give him something softer to hold onto. Something true, but kind.

So I told him about peaches.

See, in our house, one child loves peaches and the other can’t stand them.

Same fruit.

Two different reactions.

And so I said, “You know how your sister likes peaches, and you don’t? It’s the same with people. Some people just aren’t a match for each other. There’s no big reason, no fault, no failure. It’s just… not their taste.”

I told him, “You’re a peach. But not everyone likes peaches. And that’s okay.”

He sat with that for a bit. He accepted it. It made sense to him. It felt fair.

And later - weeks later - he met someone new and told me, “Mom, that’s not a peach for me.”

That little sentence stuck with me more than I expected. Because I’m a lifelong people pleaser. I shape-shift without thinking. I can be calm and serious in one room, bold and funny in another. I adjust. I absorb. I read the room and turn into someone who fits.

It’s a skill, yes. Sometimes even a superpower. But it can also be exhausting.

Despite all the shifting, sometimes I feel a sting. The unreturned message. The group plan I wasn’t part of. The subtle sense that someone just doesn’t click with me ... even though I tried.

That’s where the peaches come back in.

Just because I can adapt doesn’t mean I should always have to.

And just because someone doesn’t like me doesn’t mean I did something wrong.

... So now, when I find myself twisting a little too much, or wondering what I did wrong, I try to pause.

I think of my son, calm and certain, saying:

“Not everyone likes peaches.”

And I remind myself that it’s not always something to fix.

Sometimes, people just don’t click.

Even when you’re kind.

Even when you tried.

Even when you could have been someone else in the room.

It’s not personal. Or maybe it is ... but not in a way that means something’s wrong with you. Maybe the real work is staying close to the core you, even when it's tempting to adapt. Not out of defiance. Just out of self-respect.

Because being liked by everyone isn’t the goal. Being yourself, consistently, quietly, without apology ... is.

You are a peach. And someone else just might not be into peaches. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.